


A Game of Cat and Space Mouse

by LittleWhiteTie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is a tease, F/M, Fluff, Mild Smut, Pining, Sexual Tension, Shiro is hopeless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 13:50:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8626972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleWhiteTie/pseuds/LittleWhiteTie
Summary: Shiro tries to keep his feelings for Allura under lock and key. Allura enjoys making that as difficult for him as possible.OR: Five times Allura succeeds in making Shiro blush, and one time he returns the favour.





	

**I.**

 

Shiro’s smitten with Allura and she knows it. Everyone does. She enjoys the way that, despite his attempts to keep his feelings hidden, she can leave him dumbstruck and stuttering. It’s adorable, really, the way he tries so hard to stay professional; she wonders just what it would take for him to give in. And so her game begins.

 

It starts out innocently enough. She knows he’s been having trouble sleeping, so one night, as he wanders the corridors of the Castle after waking the way he so often does, she follows the sound of his footsteps and suggests she try giving him a massage to get him back to sleep.

 

“A massage?” he echoes back at her.

 

“Yes. You want to defeat Zarkon, don’t you?” she asks. He blinks, looking at her with a bemused expression. “It’s dangerous for you to be piloting and fighting on too little sleep. And,” she continues as she ghosts her fingers over his face (he swallows dryly), “you look like you haven’t slept properly in a long time.”

 

He concedes and, eyes sparkling, she tugs on his arm and leads him back to his room.

 

“Take your shirt off,” she says, but he's hesitant. “…Unless you’d like me to do it for you?” 

 

“No, I- it’s just...“

 

“Is it the scars?” she asks. He gives her a look – he’s never told her about them – but she tells him in a quiet voice, “I know you have them. I’m well aware of what the Galra are capable of.”

 

He closes his eyes as he exhales and removes his shirt. She can’t help but stare; the scars are even worse than she expected. They’re angry and deep and mar every inch of his sculpted body.

 

“I know, they're not pretty to look at,” he says when he catches her staring.

 

“Oh, I wasn’t looking at the scars,” she half-lies. “And I was thinking quite the opposite.” She gives him a coy smile as she deliberately lets her eyes rove over his chest, his abs, his arms. His eyes widen slightly – he wasn’t expecting that - but he doesn't blush, more surprised than anything.

 

She grabs his arm and leads him to the bed. “Lie down,” she says. He obeys and lies flat on his stomach. She climbs over him, straddling his lower back, and as she leans over, her lips brushing against his ear, she whispers, “Relax.” This earns her a blush.

 

She’s not entirely sure how to go about doing this, but she does her best to knead and rub the tension out of his tight muscles. The scars across his back are horrid and, as her hands run over them, it’s hard not to think about how he got them or how much they must have hurt, but her thoughts turn elsewhere when she hears a deep, contented moan escape his lips.

 

She leans over, her hair brushing against his neck as she croons in his ear, “Does that feel good?”

 

Cheeks dusted with pink, he lets out an affirmative, “Mmm,” and she continues. She keeps going until, eventually, his breathing evens out and he’s asleep.

 

 

 

**II.**

 

“I need your help,” Allura tells Shiro one night. Her eyes are bright and a smile plays on her lips.

 

“Sure,” he says automatically. He's at her command. “What do you need me to do?”

 

“I haven’t danced in quite some time, and I need practice before the ball,” she says. Shiro recalls that the inhabitants of Sylante, the planet they recently freed from Galra rule, are hosting a ball in their honour a couple of days from now.

 

“And you want me? To dance with you?” he asks, his heart skipping a beat.

 

“Yes,” she nods.

 

He hesitates. He’ll put his hands on her and _she’ll know_. “I… I’m not much of a dancer,” he says. “Maybe Lance-“

 

“Lance is asleep,” she interjects. “Won’t you help me, Shiro?”

 

He swallows hard.

 

“It’s important for us to give a good impression,” she says. “Dance with me, for the good of the universe.” There’s laughter in her eyes and her lips are quirked upwards, but he supposes there is some truth to her words. He relents.

 

She takes his hand and leads him to the ballroom. She pulls up a screen and soon there’s music playing. It’s unlike any genre of music he’s heard on Earth, a blend of sounds in unknown timbres, but the underlying notes and rhythms are universal. There’s a beat, and so they can dance.

 

She tells him to put an arm around her waist, and then she takes his other hand and laces their fingers together. “Closer,” she tells him, moving in until her body is right up against his. Her chest is pressed against his torso, and her thigh is right between his legs. Blood rushes to his cheeks and… elsewhere.

 

“I, um- this… this might be too close for us to dance,” he stutters. “I can’t really… move my feet.”

 

“You don’t want to help me with this one?” she asks, her lips turning down a bit but he swears there’s mirth in her eyes.

 

“I- no, I just… Maybe a different one?” he manages.

 

“Oh, alright,” she sighs as she steps back, extricating her body from his. She takes his hand again and guides his hand to her waist, placing her own hand on his shoulder. She gives him a smile and takes the lead.

 

 

 

**III.**

 

“I need your help,” Allura tells Shiro the next night. Her eyes twinkle like stars viewed from Earth.

 

“With what?” he asks her this time.

 

“I need your help in choosing an outfit for the ball.”

 

“Me?” he asks. “I don’t know a whole lot about fashion. Maybe Lance-“

 

“Lance is asleep,” she says. “And besides, I don’t particularly want Lance ogling me. I trust your judgement, Shiro. Won’t you help me?”

 

He won’t have to touch her, not like last night, but he’s still hesitant. She’s going to find out. He won’t be able to take his eyes off of her and she’ll _know_.

 

“Do you have something better to do?” she asks, and there’s no getting out of it. She knows he doesn’t. He shakes his head and follows her to her room.

 

She disappears to her closet, and when she comes back he can’t help but gawk. He tries hard to look away from her plunging neckline, but his eyes find the contours of her figure, the way the fabric of her skin-tight dress is stretched over her hips…

 

“Well?” she says, giving him a coquettish smile.

 

“It… it looks good,” he utters. He’s all too aware of the blush that’s crept over his face.

 

She looks amused. “Oh. Just good?” she says, disappearing back to the closet before he can respond.

 

She comes back out, this time in a sheer dress with slits up the side that reveal flashes of leg all the way up to the tops of her thighs. He can’t tear his eyes away.

 

“Is this one better?” she asks.

 

He can’t quite vocalize a response, gaping and tongue-tied. 

 

“I suppose not,” she shrugs before he finds his voice. “I’ll go try another.” She slips back into the closet.

 

She comes back in a third dress, this one more modest. At least, it would be if it were done up. “Help me into this one?” she asks, turning around to reveal her bare back. “The buttons, they’re quite tricky.”

 

He tries to keep his hands steady as his fingertips brush against her skin, moving up the length of her spine. His fingers keep fumbling, and he tells himself it's the buttons. Those tricky, tricky buttons.

 

She appraises herself in the mirror when he’s done, and before even asking him what he thinks, she shakes her head and says, "No, not this one.” She turns her back to him. “Help me out of this?”

 

The next dress she comes out in is elegant in every way. Its skirt flows mesmerizingly with each step she takes, and when she stops, his eyes drift up to her bare shoulders and delicate collarbone. “This one,” he murmurs, lost in her perfection.

 

“I thought so,” she says, smiling, and it’s apparent that she’d made up her mind beforehand. She just wanted to see his reaction.

 

 

 

**IV.**

 

If she wasn’t obvious enough already, any semblance of innocence or subtlety is dropped the next morning when Allura and Shiro are alone in the dining hall. She has a bowlful of bright red berries in front of her that Hunk’s gathered from Sylante. She brings one to her lips and makes sure to eat it in the most tantalizing way possible.

 

Allura is merciless. She’s the cat, and he’s the space mouse. She sucks on the berries one by one, juice staining her lips a deep scarlet, licking her fingers. Shiro tries in vain to concentrate on the bowl in front of him, but he can’t stop watching her.

 

She catches him staring and gives him a sweet smile. His face goes nearly as red as the berries and her smile widens into a grin.

 

When she finishes with the bowl, she wanders over to the kitchen and comes back with one of the ice pops Hunk had made with juice from the berries. She sits down across from him and puts it in her mouth, licking and sucking until Shiro has to excuse himself.

 

She smiles to herself at the sound of the shower running, quietly pleased when it doesn’t stop for a long time.

 

 

 

**V.**

 

“Please play along,” Allura whispers to Shiro. “Relations with the planet are at stake.”

 

It’s the evening of the ball, and the Sylantian Prince’s hungry eyes have been on Allura all night (not that Shiro's haven't). The Prince approached her and proposed a marital arrangement between them to further ties between their people. Not wanting to flat out reject him, she let him down in the gentlest way possible: by telling him that she's flattered, truly, but she’s already spoken for. 

 

“Hold my hand,” she says. He does as he’s told. Her hand fits perfectly in his.

 

The Prince’s glittering black eyes are still on them, though, so Allura leans in and whispers in his ear, “Kiss me.”

 

His eyes widen. “What?”

 

“To keep up appearances, of course,” she says matter-of-factly.

 

He swallows. He’s going to be too convincing. He’s going to kiss her and not be able to pull away. She's going toknow just how much he wants this, wants her. But he doesn’t really have a choice – she’s backed them both into a corner. So he lets the scene he’s imagined a thousand times play out in reality, and he brings his lips to meet hers.

 

Her lips are warm and inviting, and it’s over all too soon. Allura pulls back after a few brief moments, keeping her lips on his for just the right length of time to be both convincing and proper.

 

“Thank you,” she whispers in his ear, flashing him a grin. And then she’s gone, skirt flowing behind her as she goes to mingle with the Sylantians, leaving him flushed and speechless. He’s not sure how he’s going to be able to come back from this.

 

The next few hours pass by slowly. He stutters through a few conversations, but he’s distracted, vacant. His eyes always flicker back to her.

 

She returns to his side when the music starts, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor. And although he knows that each touch will make it that much more difficult for him when the night is over, he takes her hand and puts a hand on her waist and they dance the night away.

 

The next few hours pass by quickly. They sway and they twirl and his hands find her waist, her hips, the small of her back. His cheeks tinge with pink when she gazes at him with vibrant blue eyes and her dark lips curve into a smile. The music stops, but before they part, she looks over his shoulder and tells him, “Quick, kiss me again.”

 

He obliges far too readily, and he captures her lips with his. She kisses him back for a few brief moments, and again it’s over too soon.

 

He sighs as she pulls back and his eyes flutter open. If he looks at her he’ll want to kiss her again and again, so he tears his eyes away from her and looks around at the room. And then he notices that the Prince has his back turned to them, busy chatting up some other woman in the corner. “The Prince wasn’t even watching,” he informs her.

 

“Oh, really?” She feigns innocence. “My mistake.”

 

 

 

**VI.**

 

She finds him on the deck that night, lost in thought as he stares out into the depths of space. She settles down beside him, leaving little room between them.

 

“What’s on your mind?” she asks, feeling the way his breath catches as she brushes against his side.

 

“I… I was just thinking about earlier tonight,” he tells her, unable to come up with a convincing lie.

 

“So was I,” she says, a smile playing on her lips. She trails her fingers up his arm.

 

“ _Allura_ ,” he says, his voice strained, a warning in it that she ignores.

 

“ _Shiro_ ,” she mimics playfully, her hand continuing up to his jaw, and she tilts his face towards hers.

 

And then he can’t hold back any longer and he kisses her. He kisses her and kisses her, his lips and tongue full of desire and longing, a far cry from the chaste graze of their lips earlier that evening.

 

They find their way back to her room, her bed, and she gasps as his teeth find her throat and her collarbone and the tips of her ears. The fingers of his human hand thread through her long hair, and his metal hand tugs at the zipper at her back. Her dress comes off easily. His hands and lips roam over every inch of her skin, searching and needy, tender, teasing.

 

It’s not that he isn't gentle, but he doesn’t treat her like some fragile thing. He’s touch-starved and desperate for contact, and each stroke, each caress is urgent, insistent, filled with the need for _more_. (His eyes, however, are nothing but gentle, carefully checking in with her each step of the way.)

 

She gets him out of his formal jacket and the dress shirt underneath, and her hands explore his chest, his arms, his back. He seems to like that, but she’s not quite sure what to do next. She admits to him that, princess she is, she’s never actually done this before. He’s doing most of the work, and she’s not entirely sure how she’s supposed to return it. “Just leave it to me, Princess,” he says throatily, and his kisses grow bolder. He treats her less like a princess and more like a queen.

 

He starts at her ankles and kisses her calves, her thighs, and upwards still. She moans and gasps as he goes down on her; he leaves her breathless and seeing stars. Pleasure courses through her and she’s never felt so euphoric, so content.

 

He, however, still has needs to be taken care of, and so she pushes herself up and tugs at his waistband. She likes the way his breath hitches. “Do you have protection?” he asks, his voice low and husky.

 

She tells him that Alteans are inoculated against sexually transmitted infections as children, and her shape-shifting abilities enable her to prevent pregnancy. There’s no real way of making those words sexy, so she tells him this in between kisses as she strips him of his clothing.

 

Her touches are experimental, but she knows she’s doing something right by the sounds he makes low in his throat and the way his body reacts. It’s hard to concentrate with the way his human hand is touching her, but she keeps at it, revelling in the way he responds.

 

“Allura,” he groans, his voice strained, and a shiver of pleasure runs through her. He grabs her wrists and flips her over, pinning her down. She wraps her legs around him and pulls him in.

 

Their bodies fit together perfectly, moving in perfect harmony until his body shudders in release and she sees stars again.

 

Her blood thrums with exhilaration as they collapse in a tangle of limbs, spent, hearts racing and panting for breath. She grins at him, eyes dancing with excitement, wondering why they haven't done this sooner. He gives her a slight smile back before pushing himself up.

 

He sits at the edge of her bed as he pulls on the clothing that’s been shed on her floor. Before she finds her voice to ask why he’s leaving so soon, though, he says, “So?”

 

“So?” she repeats.

 

“Was that what you were hoping for?” he asks.

 

“And then some,” she says with a smile, her face still flushed.

 

“So, now that you’ve gotten what you wanted, what now?” She’s not quite sure what he means, but the edge in his voice has her wary. “...You won,” he says like he's trying to keep his voice neutral. “What now?”

 

It dawns on her that she’s been toying with him and he’s wondering if she’s done with him now. _Far from it._ “Let’s play again,” she says coyly.

 

He hesitates. His eyes are cast downward; he’s having difficulty meeting her eyes. “Look, I- I know you’re just having fun, but… this is more than a game for me, Allura,” he says. His voice is quiet. “I don’t know if I can keep playing.”

 

She drops all facetiousness and reaches towards him, tilting his chin up so he can see her face. “Then let’s make it more than a game,” she says softly.

 

He wasn’t expecting that. His expression is dumbfounded, incredulous. He searches her face, looking for some sign that she’s just teasing, but he doesn't find it. She means it. “You mean you… you would want…”

 

“ _Yes_ ,” she says, her hand stroking his cheek. “Is that really so hard to believe?”

 

She’s not sure if it’s intentional or just an automatic response, but his eyes flicker to his Galra arm. Slowly and deliberately, she intertwines his metal fingers in her own.

 

He still looks a bit apprehensive. “Even if you did, a... a relationship within the team…” he starts, stumbling over the word _relationship_.

 

“Would compromise our judgement?” she asks. “I think we both know it’s too late for that.” She’s already sacrificed herself for him, and he’s already risked everything to save her. “Or are you worried that if it doesn’t work out we won’t be professional enough to continue to work together?” They’re both more than capable of putting their feelings aside for the sake of their mission.

 

“Zarkon… Zarkon could-“

 

“Use this against us? No. You already know I’d do anything for you, Shiro. This changes nothing,” she says, and then adds, “Zarkon has already taken so much from us. We can’t let him take this too.”

 

His gaze wanders back to his right arm. His eyes and his voice fill with self-loathing. “But me, how can you… I- I’m not…”

 

She tilts his chin up again. _Look at me._ “If you’re holding back because you think you’re broken, damaged somehow, I’m not whole either,” she says softly. “But maybe we could be whole together.”

 

The darkness in his eyes dissipates, and then he tangles his hand in her hair and kisses her in response. It’s a deep, needy kiss that leaves her breathless.

 

He pulls away and he gazes into her eyes, looking at her like she’s the only person in the entire universe. Nobody’s ever looked at her like that before. A blush spreads across her cheeks, and it's his turn to smile.


End file.
